Grondar gave him a shove. “Go do it. Don’t tell me anything. And if you can get back in time for your supper, good, but if you can’t, I’ll tell your mother the hogs were being troublesome.”
“Thank you, Father!” Garander repeated, more enthusiastically. He gave a look at the baron’s camp, but they would not be able to see much in the gathering gloom, especially if he went around the far side of the house. He hurried to the corner, watching over his shoulder as his father vanished into the barn.
Ellador was not at the designated meeting place, and Garander grew steadily more worried as he waited for what seemed like an hour but was probably no more than a fourth of one. The colors had vanished from the west, and the sky overhead had faded from dark blue to starry black, when at last the wizard’s voice spoke.
“I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I was afraid you might be delayed.”
Startled, Garander looked around but saw no sign of the old man.
“I’m wearing the Mantle of Stealth,” Ellador said. “I didn’t want Zendalir or Shasha asking awkward questions.”
Garander had never heard of a Mantle of Stealth, but guessed it was some sort of invisibility spell. “Good,” he said. “This way.”
He hoped the wizard was following him, but had no way of telling for certain-his magic apparently hid the sound of his footsteps, as well as rendering him invisible. He was reassured when the old man stumbled and muttered, “Death!” as he struggled to recover his balance.
Garander made his way slowly and carefully from the farm into the forest, making it easy for the wizard to keep up, even in the growing darkness. Fortunately the greater moon was rising, and dull orange light trickled through the trees.
He and Tesk had not specified an exact spot for their meeting; Garander had relied on the shatra’s superhuman senses to find him. He wandered almost at random into the woods, more or less aiming at a clearing where he and Ishta had visited with Tesk a few times.
He had not quite reached it when Tesk’s voice asked, “Is the wizard coming, or has something gone wrong?”
Garander stopped, and the shatra dropped out of a tree almost directly in front of him.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “The wizard’s right behind me.”
He hoped that was true.
“Gods!” Ellador’s voice said, relieving Garander’s doubts. “It really is a shatra!”
Tesk jumped sideways, and suddenly one of his black rods was in his hand. His head jerked upward, then back down.
“I can smell you,” he said. “And I sense your body heat…”
“I’m right here,” Ellador said, suddenly appearing in a patch of moonlight between two trees. He was holding a large piece of dark cloth in one hand; he was hatless, and his hair was rumpled.
“He was using a spell to help him slip away,” Garander said.
“The Mantle of Stealth,” Ellador explained. “It’s a simple invisibility spell.”
“Ah,” Tesk said, lowering his wand-but only partway, Garander noticed.
“I’m Ellador of Morningside,” the wizard said. He started to hold out his hand, then thought better of it. “My friend Azlia asked me to help this young man out with a bit of magic, and I agreed.”
“I am Tezhiskar Deralt aya Shatra Ad’n Chitir Shess Chitir,” the shatra replied. “Your people call me Tesk.” He still did not put his weapon away.
“I take it you are not comfortable around wizards,” Ellador said, pointing at the black rod.
“I am not,” Tesk agreed.
“That could be awkward. To perform the spell Garander wanted, I’ll need to draw your blood with my own knife. Can you allow that?”
“How much blood?”
“Oh, just a few drops-a pinprick, really. Though if the spell works it will look like far more.”
“If the spell works?”
“Well, it’s probably never been attempted on a shatra before,” Ellador said cheerfully. “I certainly haven’t used it on one!”
“Does that matter?”
Ellador turned up the palm of the hand that was not holding the cloth. “Who can say? But the spell is meant for humans, and as I understand it, you are not fully human.”
“I am not,” Tesk acknowledged.
“Then we won’t know until we try it.”
Tesk considered that, and finally lowered his weapon the rest of the way, though he still did not return it to its place on his back.
“Ideally,” Ellador said, “I would draw blood from your throat. Anywhere will do, though, if you can’t bring yourself to let me get that close.”
“Why would the throat be better?” Garander asked, before Tesk could respond.
“You seemed worried that someone might want to make sure he’s dead by cutting off his head,” Ellador replied. “Well, wherever I cut him, it will appear the flesh in that spot has been cut open clear to the bone. If I nick his throat, just ever so slightly, it will look as if his neck’s been sliced clear to the spine; cutting his head off the rest of the way would be pointless.”
Tesk and Garander exchanged glances. “It will?” Garander asked.
“If the spell works at all, yes.”
“I like that idea,” Garander said.
“It is not your throat,” Tesk retorted. “But I see the wisdom in this.”
“Then shall we proceed?”
“It will last until morning?” Garander asked.
“It will last until at least sundown tomorrow, and will be gone without a trace by dawn of the day after.”
“I am not sure I can allow you to cut me,” Tesk said.
“If I meant you any harm, I wouldn’t be here, plain to see. I could have kept the Mantle of Stealth, after all.”
“It may be that you could not use other magic while it lasted.”
“Well, yes, in fact that’s true, but really, why would I be here, instead of using a spell that would kill you from afar?”
“Yes,” Tesk acknowledged. “Your words are convincing.”
“Then will you trust me to draw some blood from your neck?”
“I am not sure I can allow it.”
“But you just agreed…!”
“I am not sure I can allow it. The demon may object.”
Ellador looked startled. “There really is a demon inside you?”
“Yes,” Tesk replied flatly.
“You doubted it?” Garander asked.
“Well, I haven’t ever seen anything like it before! No one in Ethshar ever knew how to merge a man and a demon.”
Garander had nothing useful to say to that. Instead he suggested, “What if Tesk held your wrist while you make the cut?”
“That might help,” Tesk said.
“All right,” Ellador said. He drew the knife on his belt, and took a step toward the shatra.
Tesk’s hand came up so fast that Garander did not see it move; the black rod was just suddenly there, pointed at the wizard’s heart.
Ellador stopped. “I can’t work the spell without your blood,” he said.
“I know,” Tesk said. Slowly and carefully he returned his weapon to its place on his back; then he reached out and gripped Ellador’s wrist.
Ellador’s face went pale, the change visible even in the faint moonlight. “Do you need to hold it so tight?” he asked.
“I apologize,” Tesk said, and Garander thought he could see the struggle on the shatra’s face as he forced his fingers to loosen their hold.
“That’s better,” the wizard said, as Tesk’s grip relaxed. “Now, guide the blade to your neck.”
Tesk jerked the wizard’s hand closer, forcing Ellador to stumble forward, and then the tip of the shining dagger touched the shatra’s throat.
For a moment nothing more happened; both men stood motionless, staring at one another. Then Ellador jabbed, and Tesk’s fingers tightened; the wizard let out a gasp of pain. Garander started toward them, but before he could intervene Ellador had stepped back, and Tesk had released him.